Patriot
by LittleApril
Summary: Steve Rogers was a man out of time. And then he met her. Steve POV. Steve/OC. Companion to Recruited.
1. Chapter 1

**Patriot - Prologue**

_He remembered how the cold bit at his skin; how it seeped into his bones. He remembered the feeling of ice crawling through his veins; how his eyes closed in fatigue. It was all so very real. And the world seemed so very far away. And despite his strength, despite his virtue and name, he couldn't break free of the frozen water. _

Morning.

The scarlet digital numbers read 06.00. On his side, Steve Rogers stared at the numbers with a barely hidden sense of dread. Another morning trapped in this foreign city. Another week without purpose or use. _It was all so tiring. _

Pushing himself away from the cot that he slept on, the man bowed his head and stepped into the cramped bathroom. He pushed the faucet handle, gripping the sides of the sink as the water rushed from the tap. He washed and dressed, trying not to catch sight of the stranger that stared back at him.

He found himself staring back down at the stained files that SHIELD had left him with. He had memorised the names, faces, and death dates. He had memorised the addresses, the ages, and the contact information, though he couldn't will himself to try.

And with another heavy sigh, he grabbed his jacket and exited the apartment.

* * *

Steve Rogers had found little solace in his long, drawn-out walks around the city. He walked along the bustling sidewalks of Manhattan, drinking in the sights, the advancements in technology, the modern fashion, the unrecognised twenty-first-century tongue.

Most days, he returned to the same small bistro opposite Grand Central Station. He sat at the same table, ordered the same cup of coffee and water, and relieved the same memories over and over in his head.

But that day was different. Instead of losing himself in his thoughts, he noticed the forgotten notebook and pen left by another customer. Reaching over to the adjacent table, he pilfered the notebook and tapped the pen against the paper.

From his seat, he was able to sketch the outline of the Manhattan skyline. His pen strokes were rough and harsh, embedding the point of the biro into the paper more than once. A shadow passed over the paper. He cocked his head to the right, looking up at the blonde waitress as she smiled down at him.

"Waiting on the big guy?" she asked, glancing down at his sketches.

With his pen still in his hands, Steve frowned. "Big guy?" he repeated.

The waitress nodded her head. "The Iron Man," she explained, still smiling at him. She gestured to the towering skyscrapers behind her. "A lot of people eat here just to see him fly by." As she spoke, Steve detected the southern twang in her voice. He felt that that was as good as an explanation for her kindness.

"Right," nodded Steve, unsure of what to say next. He fished through his pockets to pull out his cash. "Maybe some other time."

"The table's yours as long as you like," she said, making a show of filling his cup. "Nobody's waiting on it. Plus we've got free wireless."

His head jerked upward at the comment, and Steve stared as the blonde weaved her way through the tables. He watched as she thanked the leaving customers and pocketed her tips. "Radio?" he asked, somewhat hopeful.

But the waitress looked back at him bemused. She balanced the empty coffee cups on her tray, offered the hero one last half-hearted smile, and strode back inside the coffee shop.

The elderly gentlemen on the table opposite turned to him with a sarcastic comment. "Ask for her number, you moron."

But Steve stayed silent. He had been back in the world for just over two weeks, had been staying in his S.H.I.E.L.D approved apartment for less than ten days, had been mourning the death of his friends since his awakening in Times Square.

The blonde was attractive, Steve thought. She was kind. She worked hard. She was polite and friendly, but she had no fire. No spark.

She wasn't Peggy.

Throwing down some notes on the table, making sure to tuck them beneath the notebook so they wouldn't float away in the breeze, Steve left the cafe in search of something familiar.

* * *

**Welcome to 'Patriot'. This is 'Recruited' from Steve's POV. It'll last maybe 25 chapters (the same as Recruited), and takes place pre and during Avengers. This prologue takes place in the deleted scene "Man Out of Time" from the Avengers DVD. If you haven't seen it, I'm sure it's up somewhere on YouTube. **

**If this story gets enough attention, I'll continue it. It really is just a little project, but if there's enough demand, I'll continue posting the chapters.**

**If you want to read more, please review!**

**~ LittleApril**


	2. Chapter 2

**Patriot - Chapter One**

He returned to SHIELD. Having spent the week trapped inside the faded hues of his apartment, the former soldier needed fresh air. He needed to be able to breathe without the tightness in his chest. He needed to open his eyes without reliving the past.

And so he met with Fury. And Fury put him back in the game.

Steve Rogers sat in the blacked-out vehicle, his posture stiff. He waited for clarification from the driver - a tall, bearded man in his late forties -, and stared out of the window at the passing scenery. He didn't recognise this area of New York City. As a young man back in the forties, suffering from whatever ailment was circulating the suburbs, Steve had had little exploration of his home city. It was the home comforts, the sight of the Statue of Liberty and the Brooklyn Bridge, that kept him grounded. The bridge was his favourite landmark. It was strong and stable, a representation of engineering's progress.

And he, Steve Rogers, a representation of science's advancements during the Second World War.

"Captain Rogers," called the driver, soot black eyes staring at the soldier through the rear-view mirror, "we're here, Sir. Agent Coulson would like you to exit the car and await his arrival. He shouldn't be too long."

Steve made no move to follow the order. "Where are we?" he asked, glancing back at the tall buildings and lack of familiarity.

"Agent Coulson would like you to exit the car, Sir. He is on orders from Director Fury."

He sat in his seat, unmoving, but his interest was peaked as a second and third black vehicle parked beside his car. Steve grasped the handle of the car door and pushed it inward, the door opening to leave a gap wide enough for the soldier to slip through. Steve shut the car door behind him, folding his broad arms across his chest as the car's engine purred. He stared at the newcomers, trying to see through the blackened glass. Heightened vision was not one of the super-soldier's advanced abilities.

The door opened. A familiar agent stepped out. Steve recognised the man as Agent Coulson. The two had met briefly before during Steve's initiation at the SHIELD headquarters just outside of Manhattan. The Agent was firm, guarded and quiet, though Steve had noticed the way the Agent spoke to him with fervour and merit.

"Captain Rogers," greeted Coulson, extending his hand in a friendly manner. "I'm glad you agreed to meet us here."

Steve shook the agent's hand and nodded his head once. "Us?" he repeated, his tone revealing his own curiosity. Just whom was he here to meet?

Coulson did not offer an explanation, for the newcomer exited the car. The door slammed behind the woman as she stalked forward, her knitted scarf flapping in the breeze. She was of average height, recalled Steve, with tumbling waves of bronze coloured hair touching the shoulders of her winter coat. Her face was small with rounded features, her cheeks tinted pink from the cold. Her eyes snapped from Coulson to Steve and to the surrounding area in less than a second, leaving Steve to read the woman as curious and alert.

"Dr. Wellington," began Coulson, shifting his attention to the woman. "I would like to introduce you to Steve Rogers."

Upon hearing his name, Steve nodded his head in a short greeting. The woman merely stared at him in interest before hesitantly extending her hand.

"Anna Wellington," she said, her voice quieter than Steve had expected it to be.

He masked his surprise with a short, half-hearted smile, and followed the recruit to the third parked car, Coulson leading the way.


End file.
